


Red Tormato and the Nutrition League

by OldChum



Category: Batman: The Brave and the Bold
Genre: Comedy, Gen, Not for serious people, Nutrition, POV First Person, Vegetable Jokes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-15
Updated: 2015-05-15
Packaged: 2018-03-30 17:38:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3945691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OldChum/pseuds/OldChum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Batman is called to help his old friend Red Tornado with their most difficult task yet, but sinister forces will stand in the way of their noble goals.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Tormato and the Nutrition League

**Author's Note:**

> This story is the result of a typo while texting. (Where I get all my best ideas!)

 

 

I had just taken down an old foe of mine who called himself King Tut, and was looking forward to a nice relaxing night in the Batcave, alphabetizing my files on the known fears of criminal scum, when the video phone in the Batmobile rang.

Red Tornado’s face appeared on the screen. He looked worried.

“Batman, I am in urgent need of your assistance! You must come at once!”

“What is it, Red? Alien Invasion? Robot Apocalypse?”

“Worse. Much worse.”

Red Tornado wasn’t the kind of person to exaggerate. His programming didn’t allow it. I homed in on his location, and let the Batmobile do the driving for me. It took more time than I would’ve liked to arrive, and I made a mental note to upgrade the Batmobile’s autopilot before assessing my surroundings.

Shuster Elementary School.

It was still early in the morning, and no students were around. I was beginning to wonder if somehow the Bat Computer had miscalculated the coordinates when I heard what sounded like an explosion coming from inside the school. With no time to waste, I grappled from the car to the entryway and kicked in the double doors. Batarang at the ready, I did the only thing that made sense:

“Red Tornado?” I asked, “Are you here?”

“Who was that?” A muffled voice asked further down the corridor. I couldn’t see its owner, but there was something decidedly familiar about it.

“I think it was… Batman?” A second voice answered him. Equally muffled and equally familiar.

“He called _Batman_?! This is really out of hand. He’s in too deep.”

It was then that I recognized the first voice. Eel O’Brian, alias Plastic Man. Why he was there and what it all had to do with Red Tornado I had no way of knowing. If I had, I would have walked right out of that elementary school and never looked back.

I made my way down the hallway ready for anything. O’Brian has every right to turn his life around, and I have every right to be suspicious of anything he does. I found him dressed as an asparagus, standing next to a short, round radish.

“Hey, Bats,” O’Brian seemed casual and unconcerned, strange given the tone of Red Tornado’s message. “You remember Woozy, right?”

I looked the radish over again. Wolfgang “Woozy” Winks. One of O’Brian’s former criminal companions, and current unofficial sidekick.

“I’m a radish!”

I waited for him to say something more meaningful.

He didn’t.

I turned back to O’Brian, who was now – unfortunately – the only person who might be able to shed some light on what was going on.

“Where’s Red Tornado?”

“In the auditorium with everybody else. It’s pretty crazy in there! I don’t know what he was thinking!”

“He said something about an emergency.”

“Uh…” Plastic Man’s mouth pursed in an exaggerated fashion. He always loses control of his facial muscles when he has to think fast. “ _Emergency_ is kind of a dramatic word for it. I would say he’s in a bind.”

“No,” Woozy shook his head, “it’s an emergency, Plas! Children are in danger!”

Confused but undaunted, I made my way to the auditorium. It wasn’t hard to find. Like most elementary schools, the building was designed on a variation of Desmond Hillroy’s “kid cage” design – itself derived from the architect’s early work creating efficient prison floorplans. The most famous of which was Blackgate.

“You’re being unreasonable!” Someone bellowed from inside the auditorium, just as I touched the door handle.

Aquaman? Here?

“I should be the carrot! Carrots and I share a mutual color scheme!”

I opened the door to find the King of Atlantis standing on the stage, arguing with Red Tornado in front of a set decorated like a happy farm. The sunshine had a smiley face. Around the rest of the room were people dressed as vegetables, just like O’Brian. And also like O’Brian, they were known to me.

They were all superheroes.

“The Flash has already selected the role of carrot. I am sorry Aquaman, but he arrived prior to you. There were more vegetables available then.”

“Flash always gets here first…” Aquaman muttered, as Red Tornado handed him a misshapen lump that was probably supposed to be a beet costume.

I was in the kind of situation I hated the most: one I didn’t totally understand. What was the emergency? What had sounded like an explosion? And why vegetables?

“Well, well, well! Look who showed up!” Green Arrow said. He was the only one, other than Aquaman, still getting ready. From the waist up, he was dressed in his typical fashion, minus his hat. From the waist down, he was wearing a pair of almost spherical trousers. Brown in colour.

My guess was potato.

“Just remember,” Arrow jabbed in his finger at my chest, “there’s only one break-dancing potato, and it’s _me_.”

“Fine?” I said, hoping that it would lead him into explaining what he just said. The tactic failed, and I watched as he triumphantly marched away to finish warming-up. Apparently, break-dancing potatoes need to do sixty or seventy deep lunges before they get started.

“Let’s ask Batman!” Aquaman’s booming voice filled the auditorium, drawing everyone’s attention to me. “You think I ought to be a carrot, right old chum?”

“I have no idea what is going on.”

Red Tornado nodded to himself and hovered over to greet me.

“I apologize for being so vague in my message, Batman. It has been a most hectic morning. I have been asked by several local schools to educate children on the benefits of a healthy diet, as part of a program where popular heroes encourage good habits. I will be doing so dressed as a tomato named Red Tormato. I believe this will be of amusement to children ages six to twelve. Unfortunately, the performers who were provided to me cancelled at the last minute. I fear it was because of pressure from the corn industry. Though corn has its place, I do not suggest it is more beneficial than other vegetables. I have called my only friends to assist me, and they have answered! I am most grateful! Will you be the eggplant?”

I hesitated and looked around to get an idea of who was there, and who might be a good choice to be an eggplant instead of me.

“Why don’t you ask Superman to come do it?”

“Superman’s adoptive parents were corn farmers. He has chosen his side.”

I decided I was going to have to acquiesce. Though I didn’t approve of the way Red Tornado had brought me there, I knew it hadn’t been an intentional deception. He placed a high value on the education of young children, and no doubt was ready to fight for their right to learn about asparagus. Besides, I wasn’t going to let a flashy, break-dancing potato show up the manganese rich eggplant – one of nature’s best providers of vitamin B1.

The children deserved better.

“One thing, Red Tornado,” I said. “When I first arrived, I heard something that sounded like an explosion…”

“Oh. That.” Red turned towards the corner of the auditorium, where a head of something that appeared to be spinach was standing next to a broccoli stalk. “There was some dispute between the Green Lanterns over who was going to represent the leafy greens. Ultimately, it was decided that it should be Hal Jordan. Guy Gardner will be the broccoli.”

“Kids hate broccoli, but it’s high in iron!” Gardner shouted at me.

“Kale is higher,” Jordan muttered.

“Why you son of a—“ There was a flash of green light, as the two of them produced constructs of giant muscular arms, and began to engage one another in combat.

“Green Lanterns, please! Do you wish to set standards of poor behaviour for the children?”

“You’re right, Red.” Jordan nodded reluctantly, “I’m sorry.”

“Kids need to toughen up! With all their Doras and Pokemons, it’d do ‘em good to see how to beat up nerds! Put ‘em on top of the food chain!” Gardner scoffed.

Jordan couldn’t stop his jaw from dropping as he gaped at his fellow Lantern, “ _What?!_ ”

More fighting, but this time a heated ideological discussion rather than fisticuffs. With Red Tornado distracted, I took a moment to assess the situation.

The Flash. Fastest carrot in the world. They’d have to call him the Orange Speedster. Except, they’d lose the alliteration inherent in the nickname, so they probably wouldn’t.

Green Arrow. Breakdancing potato. No doubt the centerpiece of a hip-hop segment. There was no evidence to support that watered-down hip-hop was in any way enjoyed by children, but the educational board always seemed to insist it was.

Plastic Man and Woozy. Still out in the hall. Asparagus and Radish respectively. Who could say how they fit into Red Tornado’s plans?

Aquaman. One unhappy beet. He had put on the costume. It didn’t look good, but his customary green tights seemed like they were meant to be worn with it.

The Lanterns. Jordan – leafy green. Gardner – broccoli. Both still fighting.

Black Canary. A bunch of grapes. She was standing on the sidelines, looking unamused. She was also the only piece of fruit.

Red Tornado himself. Tomato. Currently trying to keep his pageant together.

Odd. There was no onion. I couldn’t imagine Red forgetting about the vitamin C rich workhorse of the kitchen.

That’s when Professor Ryan Choi appeared beside me, growing rapidly from his almost imperceptible size as the Atom, to an onion of average height.

“So, he got you into this too,” the Atom sounded dreary, but resigned to his obligation. “Which veggie?”

“Eggplant.”

“Appropriately dark, I suppose. Do you happen to know who finally got saddled with the beet? We have to do a comedy bit together, and I want to rehearse.”

I pointed to Aquaman, shuffling unhappily in his costume on the stage.

“Oh, _come_ _on_!” Atom cried, at no one in particular. He grumbled to himself as he made his way over to the stage. The roundness of the onion’s base seemed to hinder his mobility. I was hoping not to have the same problem with my costume.

We had two hours of rehearsal before the assembly began. By then, the production itself was running like a well-oiled machine, but there was still enough backstage drama to satisfy a tabloid magazine. We could only hope that any petty bickering or rivalries wouldn’t show through in our performances. It had the potential to put children off of broccoli for the rest of their lives.

The audience filed in according to age, with the youngest children taking their seats first. Behind the curtain, we could hear the kindergartners and first graders excitedly speculating on the content of the day’s assembly.

“That’s _my_ crowd,” The Flash said, peeking through the curtain without being seen, “The littler they are, the more they love Ol’ Barry!”

“Kids are cute, huh?” Green Arrow said to Black Canary, just at the edge of my hearing. “If you were to, you know, have some… about how many? What do you think you’d like? Three? Two? Six boys and six girls, and maybe a van to drive around in doing family archery shows and stopping crime? Would that… appeal to you?”

“Shouldn’t you be focusing on your routine? If you’re not paying attention, you could pull something,” Black Canary sighed.

I joined the Flash at the edge of the stage, watching as the rest of the school took their seats. They were all average, ordinary children – some visibly disinterested, some intrigued or excited – but one of them stood out to me. He was sitting towards the back, with the older students, and there was something unique about his expression.

It looked to me both callous and smug. Usually a combination found only in fully grown adults.

“Wow. Check out the Village of the Damned!” Plastic Man said from over our shoulders. He had stretched his neck, so that his body remained a good eight feet behind us, on his mark on the stage, “That kid looks like he’s straight out of the Twilight Zone!”

“Plastic Man!” Flash admonished, clearly offended, “Kids can’t help it if they look really creepy! Especially around that awkward age!”

“There’s awkward, and then there’s _that_ , am I right, Bats?”

I looked again, right at the boy. He was staring at the curtain, almost through it. For a moment, I felt as though he could see all of us, and it was an unusual thought. But then, I myself had been a bit of a misfit at that age, and who knows how people might have viewed me? Though I was tempted to side with Plastic Man, ultimately the Flash was being more reasonable.

“Flash is right. Sometimes, children just look creepy. It doesn’t mean they don’t deserve to learn about vegetables.”

Even as I said it, I knew that I didn’t wholly believe it. Something about the boy’s expression seemed more unsettling than that of a simple misfit’s. I was still wondering about it as the show began, and Red Tornado introduced us all.

“Greetings, children! I am Red Tormato, and this is the Nutrition League! With our powers of various healthy properties, we combat the Legion of Junk Food, a lack of exercise, and other unhealthy habits, to keep your bodies balanced!”

The eerie boy was dressed in an unusually old-fashioned manner, I noticed. He had dark hair cut in the bowl style that weaves in and out of fashion. Gardner wore it similarly, so that wasn’t necessarily indicative of anything. But the velvet knickerbockers and matching jacket stood out – or did they? The hipster subcommunity was capable of some strange sartorial choices for their offspring. Was this something to be concerned about, or was I just out of step with niche parenting trends?

I tried to observe his reactions to the show, without drawing any notice from the rest of the Nutrition League. A panic was the last thing I wanted, and a young boy being negatively singled out in front of his peers was the second to last.

“When it comes to edible portions of the plant, none are more wholesome than the taproot!” Aquaman was saying, with a dramatic flair that came naturally to him.

“I say it’s the bulb – you pompous buffoon…” Atom replied. The last part was adlibbed.

“Gentlemen! Neither of you are incorrect, and neither of you are correct!” Red Tornado interrupted, “Many parts of the plant are high in vitamins and minerals! From the bottom, to the tops! In fact, our friend the Leafy Green has quite a bit to tell us about that…”

The creepy boy in the back yawned theatrically, as Jordan stepped forward and began his speech.

“When do you do something interesting?” The boy called out, in a bored and demanding tone more likely to be heard on Warworld than from an eleven year old child in an auditorium.

Jordan paused awkwardly, and looked to Red Tornado for direction. None of us were used to being heckled by children. If it had been an intergalactic overlord, he would have been the first one ready with a pithy comeback. But how pithy was _too_ pithy for the underage crowd?

Red Tornado was prepared for a moderate amount of sassback.

“Young man, perhaps if you are patient and watch the presentation as it unfolds—“

“But the presentation is _dull!”_

The teachers were murmuring among themselves. They seemed apprehensive to intervene, as though none of them were responsible for the boy.

That’s when I noticed the cat. A large, orange and black striped housecat was stalking the wings of the stage. I tried not to make any sudden moves, to avoid it realizing that I had spotted it.

Thanks to that clue, I was able to deduce who the boy was.

And that we were about to do more than teach children about a balanced diet.

On one of my last visits with Jason Blood, human host of the demon Etrigan, he told me of an encounter with an interdimensial traveller from a realm called Witch World. A being perpetually in the shape of a little boy, who called himself Klarion.

“I think it’s high time you vegetables were harvested!” Klarion smirked, and the room was bathed in inky, supernatural shadow. The other children in the auditorium seemed more confused than nervous. With any luck, they’d think all of this was part of the show.

“Is that kid _floating_?” Black Canary observed under her breath.

Klarion was now suspending himself mid-air, his skin had turned a pale shade of blue, and he was muttering a chant under his breath as purple wisps of magic curled around his fingertips. I had no idea what he was doing, but it was bound to be unpleasant.

“See?!” Plastic Man hissed at Flash, “Total weirdo! You’re fast around the race track, but you aren’t too quick on the uptake…”

Guy Gardner was the first to try and take action. He used his power ring to bind Klarion in a pair of green shackles and a gag, and began forcing him back into his seat.

“Everybody watching this?” Gardner said to the audience, “Everybody looking? Leafy Greens over here is all talk, but broccoli is the one who gets stuff done! Broccoli is the real hero of the dinner plate! Nobody forget!” He turned to Jordan, “Go ahead, Princess. Finish your speech.”

But by then, Klarion’s spell had been cast and was already taking effect.

The first sign of this was the monstrous, ten-foot tall box of French fries that broke through the auditorium wall. It let out a deafening roar than would have put any dinosaur to shame.

“I told you we spent too long in the hall, Plas!” Woozy Winks whispered, “We missed a big chunk of the rehearsal!”

“Not part of the show, Woozy!” Plastic Man whispered back.

“Oh. That’s really bad.”

The Fry Monster was crushing a piece of the wall in his hands when he was flanked by two goons dressed in black and white stripes.

Of course.

One of them was armed with a licorice whip, and the other with shuriken that appeared to be made of Cool Ranch Doritos, but were no doubt as sharp as their metal counterparts.

“I assure you, this was never intended as part of the program!” Red Tornado said quietly.

“Well, pretend it was!” Flash shrugged, “If the kids panic, they could get hurt!”

Flash was more right than anyone would have liked. I surveyed the rapt audience, and noticed that while enormously entertained, none of the children seemed to think any danger might be genuine. I took in the scene and evaluated what needed to be done:

First, the children needed to be distracted.

“Flash, make sure the children stay seated!” I instructed.

He nodded and darted off the stage towards the front row, where the kindergartners were the most vulnerable.

“I’m going to protect you from the evil… Frykenstein! The same way carrots help protect your immune system! Just like, ah…” he looked over his shoulder at the group of heroes readying themselves for the fight, “Grapes! Grapes, come on down!”

Black Canary quickly joined him, and I was confident that the two of them were more than capable of safeguarding such a precious resource.

Next on the agenda, distracting the Hamburglars. Looked like Aquaman was a step ahead of me on that.

“Prepare for the _beeting_ of your life!” No time to observe too closely, but I assumed he was going for the face.

Jordan was subduing the second Hamburglar, and Red Tornado was beginning to make an attempt on the Frykenstein. With Gardner focusing on keeping Klarion subdued, I needed to get Green Arrow his bow – without his gear, he was as helpless as a baby bird.

“Bats! Bats! What can _we_ do?” O’Brian and Winks. I had forgotten about them.

“Make sure nobody breaks Gardner’s concentration. If Klarion gets loose, we could have even more trouble on our hands.”

An arrow whizzed between us, and landed right between the Frykenstein’s crazed eyes.

“It’s guys like you that give potatoes a bad name!” Arrow quipped, and a chorus of cheers erupted from the children. It seemed he’d left his weaponry close at hand.

“Potato!” I called to him, “No gasses or explosives!”

“Thanks, Eggplant, but I wasn’t born yesterday! I know what I’m doing!”

I resisted the urge to engage in the argument. With all the pieces working like clockwork, there was just one more job, and it was mine.

Get the cat.

Encumbered by the unique shape of m costume, my approach was more clumsy than usual. Eggplants simply aren’t designed for stealth. I made my way into the shadows backstage and began searching for a glimmer of green eyes in the dark. I could hear sounds of fists finding their mark and witticisms being fired as quickly as the arrows that no doubt were stopping Frykenstein’s tirade, but if we were going to make any real headway, we needed that cat.

If my information from Jason Blood was correct, and there was no reason to doubt it, the cat was some kind of exterior manifestation of Klarion’s powers. If it was harmed, he would never be able to do magic again. It would be a bluff, but also the only bargaining chip I could get my hands on.

I listened carefully. With my physicality hindered, my other senses were going to be more important than ever. I let the cheers and laughter of the children fade into the background, and focused.

Like claws on metal rafters.

I looked up to see a feline silhouette stalking the lighting grid towards the front of the stage.

I had to be careful and quiet. Which meant that I was almost entirely focused on soundlessly climbing the rigging. Part of my attention was drawn by noises of frustration and some arguing between O’Brian and Gardner, but I couldn’t pay much attention to them. If I lost that cat, we would lose our best chance of decisive victory.

“Watch it!”

“Oh, sorry, Broccoli! Did I get in your way when I _saved your life_?!”

“Saved my life from what?! That candy grenade? That was nothing!”

Candy grenades? If those weren’t checked, they could cause some serious problems. I glanced down, as briefly as possible, and took in the scene.

The two Hamburglars were being secured by Aquaman and the Atom. I didn’t know how the Atom had made himself useful, but there was no doubt in my mind that he had. Meanwhile, the Frykenstein’s size had increased, and Jordan and Green Arrow were trying to distract it from the audience. It threw something towards O’Brian and Gardner, who were distracted by their bickering.

Whatever it was exploded and instantly knocked the pair backwards, breaking Gardner’s concentration and freeing Klarion.

That added a new level of urgency to my objective.

I didn’t know for sure, but I was really hoping that a foam rubber eggplant suit was good at breaking falls.

I lunged forward and grabbed the cat.

It yowled ferociously, hissing and clawing at my face. I felt like we were in the air for minutes instead of seconds, as I flipped my body to land on my back and break the animal’s fall.

A bright green blur at the corner of my eye and the smell of burnt potatoes informed me that Jordan had finally brought down the Frykenstein.

I hit the stage with a thud, but whatever had happened to our deep fried foe was proving significantly more distracting than a freefalling eggplant with an armful of housecat. My only regret is that I didn’t see it.

“Oh dear. My Fry Guy looks a little overcooked!” Klarion laughed, hovering above the audience in a swirl of dark magic and blue shadow, “But no matter! Plenty more where that came from!”

“Not if you know what’s good for you,” I replied, standing up and making my grasp on the cat as obvious as I could manage without letting it get the upper hand.

“Teekl!” Klarion cried, wide-eyed. But then a sly grin spread over his ageless face, “No matter, Eggplant. There’s nothing you can do to her.”

“Isn’t there?” I asked, stalling for the briefest moment as I pulled one arm into my costume and reached my utility belt. I was glad I opted to keep it on beneath the veggie suit.

I pulled out a newly armored fist and made sure that Klarion could see it.

“Nth metal knuckles, Klarion. How would Teekl like a pat on the head with these?”

“No! You wouldn’t! Let her go! I’ll be good!”

The back doors of the auditorium swung open as a tired voice drawled:

“We’ve certainly heard that before.”

Jason Blood strolled down the aisles of the auditorium seats, and stopped at Klarion’s row. He looked extremely displeased.

“Why, Uncle Jason!” Klarion smiled desperately, “Whatever are you doing _here_? I was just learning about nutrition with the other children…”

“I’m sure. Better come along now, Klarion.”

Klarion pouted – the first thing he did that seemed truly childlike – and stood up to leave with Blood.

“Oh dear!” He said, as though he suddenly remembered something, “We’d better not leave without Teekl!”

“She’ll be safe with…” Blood raised an eyebrow at me, “the man in the eggplant suit. I’ll come back for her, once you’re properly on your way.”

Later, as the children were beginning to file out of the assembly, and once the Nutrition League had successfully lied to the faculty about the danger levels that had just been present, Blood returned for Teekl. He had something that looked a little like an occult cat carrier. I didn’t ask him any questions about it at the time.

My main concern was how disappointed Red Tornado seemed to be. After I shook hands with Jason Blood, I went to talk to him.

“All I wished to do was encourage children to have balanced diets. I am not certain that I succeeded.”

I drew his attention to the children still filing out.

“I’m a carrot! Zoom zoom zoom!” One of them was saying.

“I like beets the best! They punch stuff!”

“Leafy Greens saved the day! I’m gonna have a salad for dinner!”

I couldn’t help but smile as I put a hand on Red Tornado’s shoulder.

“I think your presentation went very well.”


End file.
